The silence was broken by Pike.

"Better sheer off from that sh.o.r.e, John. Should your ditties fail to please His Excellency, you are apt to land in the _calabozo_."

"And the other fathers are apt to drop tiles upon my head," I sighed.

"Not they," rea.s.sured Zuloaga. "Keep in the shadow, and it will not be known but that you are the suitor favored by the parents."

"Yet what if I am discovered to be a stranger?" I inquired, with feigned concern.

A dozen voices hastened to rea.s.sure me that a serenade from one of the gallant _Americanos_ would be taken in good part by the most hard-hearted of parents.

"But how do you find the window of the fair one?" I asked.

"That is to be seen, senor doctor," put in Medina. "My way is to station myself across the street and sing the first verse. That never fails to lure the coyest of coquettes from her secrecy."

"But, then, you have the voice," I mocked.

"It is true," he replied, taking me seriously.

"But what if the senorita's chamber is located in a remote part of the house?" I questioned.

"You are in truth a stranger to the women," he jeered. "Count upon it that every senorita in Chihuahua, however ugly, has a balconied chamber, either upon the front or the side street."

"_Muchas gracias_, Don Lieutenant," I said, and turned to Pike. "_Hola_, Don Montgomery! Would you keep the ladies waiting for their serenade?"

This raised a polite laugh, in the midst of which Pike, Walker, and I essayed the prolonged ceremony of leave-taking. At the door of the _sala_ an attendant relieved me of the guitar, and for a little I thought Zuloaga's presentation had been a mere formality. But as we pa.s.sed the gate into the street the attendant returned the instrument, in a handsome case.

"You are in fortune, doctor," remarked Walker. "That is as fine a guitar as is to be found in Chihuahua."

"So?" I said. "Then I really believe I will try it to-night."

"You may lose yourself, or be struck down by the knife of some murderous _ladrone_," he objected.

"Not he," rea.s.sured Pike. "I'd back him to out-wrestle a panther."

"What is more, I carry one of my pistols," I added. "So if, between you, my guitar case will not prove too much of a burden--"

"_Sacre!_" muttered Walker. "You may fall into trouble."

"That's my risk," I replied with unaffected cheerfulness, and handing the guitar case to my friend, I swung away up a side street before our _dueno_ could interpose further objections.

As I sped along in the shadow of the houses, I could have leaped up and cracked my heels together for joy. I was alone and free for the first time since joining company with the two Yutahs in the valley north of Agua Caliente. But my coltish impulse was short-lived. I had not questioned and planned for the last hour, to caper about in solitary darkness now.

The street up which I had bolted did not lead in the direction in which I wished to go. This was soon mended by turning at the first corner. The towers of the _Parroquia_, looming high against the starlit sky, guided me to the plaza. I then needed only to skirt edge of the square to come to the street corner upon which stood the great mansion of Don Pedro.

More than once on my way I had heard the long-drawn notes of serenaders, and the thought that there might already be one beneath my lady's balcony hurried me into a run. But when, mindful of the counsel of the complacent Medina, I slipped into a shadowy archway across from the stone _facade_ of the Vallois mansion, I could hear no music within two or three hundred paces. This surprised me not a little, and I stood for some moments wondering at it, for my brief stay in Chihuahua had already confirmed all that Dona Dolores had written to Malgares as to the great popularity of Alisanda.

It was, however, no time to ponder mysteries. Whatever reasons her other suitors might have for staying away, I was here to woo her, and woo her I would. I keyed my strings, and with my gaze roving from one to the other of the balconied windows across, began to sing that love ditty I had sung beneath my lady's window at Natchez. The first verse brought me no response. Every balcony remained empty, every window gaped black between its open hangings.

After a short interval I sang the second verse. But though I stared at the dim, ghostly outlines of the white stone mansion until my eyes ached, I saw no sign of my lady. It then occurred to me that her chamber might face upon the side street. I stepped out from my dark archway, to walk around. But as I crossed over I could not resist gazing up at the nearest balcony and whispering her dear name: "Alisanda! Alisanda! It is I--John."

Almost instantly a little white object darted out over the balcony rail and came fluttering down through the limpid darkness. I caught it in the air, and felt in my closing palm a roll of paper twisted through a ring.

That it was a note and from my lady I had no doubts. But I could not read it here, and my love made me too impatient to be able to content myself with this dumb favor. I thrust the missive into my pocket, and called again: "Alisanda!--Alisanda! Speak to me, dearest one!"

I waited a full minute. But she gave no sign. By now I was in desperate earnestness.

"Alisanda!" I appealed to her, "is it for this I have come to you all these many leagues? Speak to me, dearest! I will not go--I cannot--until you speak to me!"

This time I did not call in vain. A shadowy form glided out the window and bent over the balcony rail, and the sweet notes of my lady's voice came down to me in heavenly music.

"Juan! Juan!" she murmured, in tender distress, "you must not take this risk! You will lose all! Go now, dear friend, before you are discovered.

Go, read what I have written."

"What is a little risk, Alisanda, to one who has crossed the barrier to reach you?"

"You do not know! The risk is that you may find you have crossed the barrier in vain. There is yet the gulf. Go quickly! I hear a step--some one comes! He is almost here!"

"But, dearest one--!" I protested, as she vanished.

There came a sound of quick steps behind me, and an angry voice muttered the fierce oath, "_Carrajo!_"

A man reared in the wilderness acquires the instinct of the wild creatures to act first and consider afterwards. I leaped away from that angry voice before the last syllable of the oath hissed out. Even at that I felt the p.r.i.c.k of a sword point beneath my shoulder as I bounded away. The owner of the voice had thrust--and thrust to kill. As my feet touched earth again I had out my pistol; as I spun about, I set the hair-trigger. The glint of a steel blade directed my gaze on the instant to the dim figure crouching to spring after me.

"Halt, senor a.s.sa.s.sin!" I commanded. "Take a step, and I shoot you down like a dog!"

"_Peste!_" he cried, lowering his sword point. "It is the _Americano_ physician."

"And you are Medina!" I muttered between my hard-set teeth--"Medina, the aide-de-camp and bravo of Salcedo,--Medina the a.s.sa.s.sin."

"_Peste!_" he repeated. "It is a lie."

"You had better pray than swear," I warned him. "The trigger of my pistol is set. The slightest touch of my finger, and you go straight to h.e.l.l."

"_Santisima Virgen!_" he protested, a trace of concern beneath the continued anger of his tone. "You do not comprehend."

"I comprehend that you, an officer in the service of His Most Catholic Majesty, sought to stab me in the back without warning. It was vile--it was cowardly! Can you name a single reason why I should not shoot you?"

"You do not comprehend!" he insisted. "I mistook you for one of those whom I have warned."

"Mistook me?" I repeated, catching at the chance for an explanation. It is not pleasant to think of a gentleman and officer turned a.s.sa.s.sin.

"Yes," he answered. "I have made this my privilege. Any man in Chihuahua who wishes to serenade Senorita Vallois has my pledge that I will kill him."

"I am in Chihuahua, and I have serenaded Senorita Vallois," I replied.

"But you did not know of my pledge. I will spare you this time."

"_Muchas gracias_, senor. Yet it seems to me it is a question of my sparing you."